When I was much younger, I really fancied this older woman, she was about 11 years older than me and an artist. I have to admit I pursued her, but man was she a piece of work, but when I think about it today I really should thank this ex for telling her friends and whoever else would listen about my huge penis.
When Veronique and I met, I was rather naïve, I though it would be cool to have an artist girlfriend who was older than me, but she kept me at arms length, only allowing me to be one of the many sycophants in her entourage.
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After one of her locally held art shows, we all went back to her apartment, she had a whole cortege of followers, including me. We bought some jugs of wine and I had a local dope merchant get me some good Durban Poison.
As soon as we were all half pissed and stoned, people started leaving and eventually I found myself alone with my fantasy woman. By then she had lost her “older woman” inhibitions and allowed me to approach her in a sexual way, she was forbidden, being of color and me being white in an apartheid South Africa.
She ran a bath, lit candles and we got into the deep warm water and started fucking. Just as I was getting going, she topped me, telling me she wanted “artistic” photos, of me with my big beautiful cock, I was unsure, but relented.
Posing me and my big beautiful cock how she wanted was actually a big turn on and I wanted to fuck her hard more than ever by then. When she came back to the bath and we started fucking again, I was so excited a just couldn’t make it last and I shot my load hot and hard into her.
Wanting to see her again the next day, I was really hurt, she refused. She got her entourage to fob me off and tell me sh e didn’t want to see me again. I couldn’t figure out what the problem was. It took me weeks of moping to get over this, but eventually I came to my senses and got on with living, the first stop being my favorite bar, where I also had met Veronique.
I walked in and walked up to the bar, Shirley, the barmaid grinned at me, and said “I had no idea that you had such a big cock?”, “what the fuck are you talking about?” I responded. She tilted her head to the side and moved her eyes left to indicate I should look that way. I did, and there I was, a blown up, framed photo on the wall of the bar, as large as life in the bathtub.
That little bitch has sold me down the line and apparently the bar paid good money for a photo which had been hanging there for three weeks while I was in hiding. When I got over the initial shock and betrayal, I realized I had her to thank for all the attention I was getting from the local girls.
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